


Modus Operandi

by Lywinis



Series: The Care and Keeping of Detective Inspector Jack Robinson [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lywinis/pseuds/Lywinis
Summary: Jack takes some time to reflect on things.





	Modus Operandi

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt: I wish you'd write a fic where Jack realises, in a very quiet, uneventful way, that he loves Phryne.

As she always did, Phryne managed to surprise him.

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was an honest man, with everyone but himself; perhaps that was what took him so long to acknowledge it. Another night spent late at the station, filling out reports and making sure things were in order, it had filled his days with enough tedium to make falling asleep a welcome blessing.

He had packed off Hugh, telling him to go home and get some rest. It was enough that one of them were exhausted come bedtime. The ticking of the clock and the quiet hum of the newly installed electric lighting were the only sounds save the scratch of his pen. Half-past ten and all was well.

His gaze rose to the rest of the room, traveling familiar walls. On the bench beside his office door, there was a splash of color, a red gingham tablecloth tucked into a hamper that Mister Butler had brought by earlier this evening.

It was like Phryne to remember such things, her thoughtfulness turning small acts such as bringing him supper into a regular occurrence. Jack set his pen down and rose, moving to the bench and retrieving the hamper, setting it on his desk whilst he cleared away his paperwork. Within was a myriad of foods, things either Phryne or her helpers knew he preferred. Potatoes, cold roast, freshly baked bread and Dot’s apple pie, all packed away beneath an envelope. The cream and gold of the paper plus the faint scent of Phryne’s perfume left no doubt as to the author of the note.

Jack carefully slit the seal and removed the note. Sure enough, in Phryne’s elegant script, there was an admonishment that he not work so hard, and to also make sure that this didn’t go to waste. As he so often did where Phryne was concerned, Jack felt the edges of his lips tugged upward in amusement. Carefully, he folded the note, returning it to its envelope and tucking it into his desk drawer.

The roast was excellent, even cold.

* * *

Normally his nights were filled with thoughts that only encroached during his solitude. Rosie, running over and over in his mind how he could have been a better man and husband in her eyes. Cold cases, things he had not been able to solve, things that nagged at his brain and his blood hound nature wouldn’t let him release to the ether. Memories of the war, things that left him cold and sweating, his blankets tangled in his legs and halfway onto the floor as he woke, the scent of smoke in his nose once again. What form his thoughts took varied with the stresses he was under, but it was a private hell, not meant for prying eyes.

Recently, however, those thoughts had quieted, as though he were focusing on a new problem and his mind was making way to put all its faculties to work on it. It was a pattern he was familiar with; his mind had always been this way and he’d trained it to its strengths, seeking out things that challenged him to quiet his demons.

As he readied himself for bed, he had no idea what had taken the usual place of his solitary musings, save for the fact that they were gone. Something had calmed the storm inside him, at least for a while, and for that, he was profoundly grateful.

A single bed in the small home he rented might have depressed him once, and had, early on in his post-divorce life. Now, however, Jack found himself settling in to bed with no complaints, sleep rising to meet him even as he lay back. It was as though his mind were already elsewhere.

He woke on his side, well before his alarm clock. Jack blinked, the soft rays of the rising sun coloring his room in soft light. He inhaled, the memory of—

Phryne’s perfume.

Jack sat up, slowly, a hand coming to his face as he rubbed sleep from his vision. Of course, she  _would_ banish his nightmares. That seemed to be the inevitable; Miss Fisher was known to bull in anywhere she pleased and took no prisoners. Sometimes it was to her own detriment, other times, like these, it was merely a quiet sigh from himself as he found himself swept along, not entirely against his will.

He leaned back against his headboard, looking down at the palms of his hands.

What could he even offer such a woman? Surely that was a mistake waiting to happen. A mistake she seemed willing to make—but Jack couldn’t bear disappointing her. Not in this way. This was different from barring her from the crime scene, this wasn’t playful banter. This was serious.

Jack resolved to determine the answer before he got The Honorable Miss Fisher involved in any matters regarding his heart.

Of course, that was assuming he got any say in the matter at all. Phryne was indeed full of surprises.

**Author's Note:**

> I still like this prompt a lot. Putting it somewhere a little more permanent.


End file.
